


Part One (E/R): The Abandon

by squishgurl



Series: Doomed Revolutionaries [1]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-12
Updated: 2013-02-12
Packaged: 2017-11-29 00:52:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squishgurl/pseuds/squishgurl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras begins to realise that his relationship with Grantaire may be more of a hinderance than a help. First part of the Doomed Revolutionaries series. Enjolras/Grantaire angst (like there's any other type of E/R fic).</p><p>“I need to give myself wholly to this. I can ill afford to be planning and have images of you, of your tongue, your body…”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Part One (E/R): The Abandon

"Grantaire, I would see you a moment." The drunkard halted at his general's words. He knew what Enjolras wanted. And he didn't want to speak of it. Yet, he couldn't stop himself turning around, meeting Enjolras' deep blue eyes for a moment before looking away. The Les Amis de l’ABC dispersed and Enjolras moved towards him, grasping him by the elbow and pulling him through the cafe. Grantaire rolled his eyes as the leader turned on him, his eyes firey. They entered a back room, Enjolras slamming the door behind them.

"It might be nice for you to support me, at least once, at the meetings. No, I ask not even that much. It would be enough for you to not ridicule myself and the cause." He said simply and Grantaire pulled away from him angrily.

"I would never belittle you. It's the cause for which I have no patience. And why should I not encourage their revelry? It's nice to speak of something other than our impending deaths, do you not think? Such passion, do you remember when we were so?" Enjolras turned away, and this time it was Grantaire to reach out, placing his hand on Enjolras' shoulder.

"Things are more important now. We do not have time for such schoolboy nonsense."

"What do we fight for; if not for freedom and liberty, beauty and grace, passion and love..." Grantaire trailed off and Enjolras raised his head, his eyes piercing the other boy's pale ones.

"I thought you didn't believe in such things?" Enjolras was surprised in his friend. He was standing by himself, not a scent of harsh alcohol on his breath. A hopeful, or foolish person may have thought him sober. He stepped closer, touching the hand on his shoulder gently.

"Perhaps someone has convinced me." He said, stepping forward boldly.

"While I'm glad that is so, there is a time and place for such things." Enjolras chided and Grantaire took another step forward, forcing the general to falter back into the wall behind him.

"Yes. And that time is now." Grantaire murmured, his lips brushing against Enjolras' lightly. The other boy froze for a moment, before returning the kiss gently. Grantaire spiraled in, and soon Enjolras had to push him away.

"We are children no more, Taire. We can give into these passions no longer." Grantaire raised his hand, hitting the wall beside Enjolras' head and letting his arm rest there.

"I need this, Enjolras. You need to give me something to live for. Something to fight for." Enjolras lifted his head, his hand stroking Grantaire's cheek lightly.

"We will survive this, Grantaire. The people will rise to fight with us."

"Those pretty speeches may work on the rest of the troops, but I know you better than that."

"What would you have me do? Give up? Allow this tyranny to continue? The people are starving, Taire. Our people. Somebody needs to take a stand."

"And that person needs to be you?"

"There's no one else!" Enjolras yelled and Grantaire stepped back, looking away. "You think I want this. Don't you think I'd rather run? Leave this place and take you straight home to my bed and never leave? Hide from the impoverished, live and love in wealth and privilege? Of course I would. But there’s more at stake. This is bigger than us."

"You know I will follow you gladly into death. I simply wish you would make better use of the limited time we have left together."

"There is planning-"

"Not right now." Grantaire said, his confidence returning as he pressed his finger against Enjolras' lips, his other hand sliding down into the other man's leggings. Enjolras was already hard, ready for him. He always was, his own pleasure was always second to everything else, and his neglected body took any opportunity for release. He bucked into his friend's hand, throwing his head back as a strangled growl was pulled from unwilling throat. Grantaire smiled for the first time since this foolish scheme had formed in his friend's blonde head. Enjolras was passionate about everything he did, but this in particular, Grantaire could practically see him radiating with desire. And Grantaire was perfectly willing to take advantage of the fact. Enjolras swiftly undid the ties of Grantaire’s leggings; watching with ill confined glee as the fell to the ground and Grantaire’s erection sprang free. He reached down slowly, but Grantaire had other ideas.

In one swift movement, Enjolras' leggings fell to the floor, and Grantaire had dropped to his knees, taking their fearless leader into his mouth willingly. Within seconds Enjolras threw his hands out, holding him up against the wall when his knees buckled as Grantaire's skillful mouth reminded him what it meant to be alive. He needed this and more importantly he wanted this. He wanted him. As much as Grantaire wanted him, though he knew the other boy would argue. Grantaire had foolishly thought that Enjolras thought nothing of him. But the opposite was true. There was a reason that Enjolras was so hard on Grantaire. He held him at a higher standard than the others. He was the only one who had caught his heart. The only one he would consider throwing it all away for. The only one he cared for as much as France.

Grantaire's tongue. That splendid thing that was as a whip, tearing through the designs and dreams of a revolution they both were apprehensive about. Enjolras thought it was at much better use now, as it caressed his cock lovingly. Grantaire knew him, better than anyone else, knew the best places to touch, how to draw whimpers of unbridled pleasure from the usually stoic chief. It had been so long and Grantaire knew him too well for this to last long. Grantaire hollowed his cheeks, taking Enjolras deep into his throat like he knew their leader loved and Enjolras was undone, coming into Grantaire’s welcoming mouth. His body was boneless and he slid down the wall, gracelessly falling in next to Grantaire. He leant himself firmly against the wall, looking at the now suddenly interesting door.

"I cannot afford these distractions." Enjolras said, pushing him back, as Grantaire tried to catch his attention; willfully avoiding the perfect vision of Grantaire's face, cheeks flushed and Enjolras own leavings trickling out of the corner of perfect lips. "I need to give myself wholly to this. I can ill afford to be planning and have images of you, of your tongue, your body..." He looked away ashamed; though between betraying France and Grantaire, he knew not of what. Grantaire stood, pulling his britches up quickly, grimacing as his body protested to confining his erection. “You know how I feel about you. But this… is more important… I need to be at my fullest… my most capable…”

"You waited until you had been sated before making this known, I notice." Grantaire was only half teasing, only half heartedly trying to compensate pain with humor. Enjolras finally looked at him, as he wiped away at the corner of his mouth. Of course he had waited; why would anyone with hold of their senses give up that? Grantaire was intoxicating; the warmth of his touch; the scent of his skin. He knew there was physically no way that he could have told Grantaire before; he wouldn’t have been able to form the words if he knew that there was even a chance that Grantaire would worship at his alter. But this was an inherently selfish thought, and he couldn’t stand if Grantaire thought ill of him because of it. So he remained silent; his eyes pleading for understanding.

“I would that we finished this, our final night together.” He pleaded; and in that moment, nothing was more true. He wanted to love Grantaire, over and over again until neither of them could move. He wanted to make their last night together something that Grantaire could hold on to; something that, whenever he let himself relax for only a moment, Enjolras could think back on fondly. But it was not to be. Grantaire snorted, shaking his head.

“Don’t you think you’ve made enough orders tonight?” Grantaire said with a scorn and began to leave, Enjolras grabbing his hand from the ground. Looking down at him from his great height, Grantaire was shaken by how small and lost their fearless leader looked. It made him want to weep. 

But the other part of him, the dominant part was very aware that his lover was pushing him away. That what they had was fini. He couldn’t… He never imagined what they had ever ending. He knew that he cared more about Enjolras than the boy did about him but never in his wildest dreams did he believe that it would all come to end someday. And over a rebellion that was never going to succeed or change anything anyway. Grantaire wanted to cry again. He couldn’t… He had to leave.

“Please Grantaire… understand…” Oh he understood. Understood that his Apollo, his Adonis, the one that his soul cried out to in the night was throwing away everything they had so he could plan? He was choosing France over what they had. And somehow, Grantaire was not only a distraction, but made Enjolras physically less capable than he was without him. Grantaire couldn’t. He pulled his hand out of Enjolras’ and left, never glancing behind him, even as he heard the blonde start to weep.


End file.
